


hung up

by downmoon



Series: the family album [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 02:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6592852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downmoon/pseuds/downmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suga exhales a cloud of cold winter air, but Daichi can’t be bothered to remember just how cold it is. He’s warm from the inside out, staring at Suga, his heart giving that all-too-familiar lurch that’s become habitual in his daily life. </p><p>It steals his breath and scatters his thoughts into nonsense, trips up his tongue and burns his cheeks with never ending blush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hung up

Daichi’s birthday, if things could go his way, would consist of a quiet dinner with Suga, and then maybe falling asleep on the couch to ring in the New Year. Just simple, quiet, easy, not much different from what he and Tobio have been doing every year.

His boyfriend, however, had other plans, plans Daichi discovered when Shouyou blurted something out about a party and Suga rushed to cover his mouth with a smile that looked a little deranged. Daichi had resigned himself at that moment to whatever Suga had in store for that weekend, which turned out to be take out and the kids running around with party hats and noisemakers before they were sent to their sitters.

He thought maybe that was it, that they’d slip into their same routine of wine and a bad movie until Daichi nodded off and Suga woke him up later to make fun of him, but after the kids had left, Suga had turned on him with a gleam in his eye, and a plan in mind.

“Are you _sure_ you want to go out,” Suga chirps, his hands wrapped around Daichi’s arm, “since you’re an old man and all now?”

“Oh my god, you’re older than I am.”

“Yeah, true, but I don’t go to bed by 9pm every night.”

Suga laughs to himself as Daichi scowls, one hand sliding down Daichi’s arm, lacing their gloved fingers together as they walk. He seems exceptionally happy tonight. Not terribly unusual, Daichi’s come to learn; Suga’s rarely without a smile and a glimmer of warmth, but it’s magnified tonight.

“You look very happy,” Daichi says softly. Suga’s smile parts when he turns his head, the lights of the city catching in his eyes like stars.

“I am happy. My friends are in town, _you’re_ here with me, past your bedtime-”

_“Hey.”_

“-I’m very happy.”

Suga exhales a cloud of cold winter air, but Daichi can’t be bothered to remember just how cold it is. He’s warm from the inside out, staring at Suga, his heart giving that all-too-familiar lurch that’s become habitual in his daily life. It steals his breath and scatters his thoughts into nonsense, trips up his tongue and burns his cheeks with never ending blush.

He wants to slow his steps, pull on Suga’s hand until he stops too, kiss the sweet smile from his mouth until he can taste it. But someone pushes past him, and Daichi’s jolted back to reality, to a cold, crowded sidewalk in the heart of the city. Suga’s hand slips from his, to wrap around his arm again, his radiance dimmed just a bit. It does nothing to quiet the pounding of Daichi’s heart. 

 

* * *

 

Suga didn’t tell him they were meeting his friends at a _club_ until after they got off their train, and when he finally mentioned it, he did so apprehensively. But then he had laughed at the face Daichi made, and asked about ten times if that was okay, if Daichi would be able to handle a gay bar on New Year’s Eve, and Daichi had resolved himself to go. It’d be fine, he’d get to meet Suga’s friends, have a drink or two. It’d be fine.

It’s different, now that he’s actually here, different in a way that has him blushing right up to the roots of his hair.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Suga asks. He’s trying not to laugh, and failing pretty miserably, if Daichi had anything to say about it.

“I’m fine. It’s fine. I’m. I’m going to get a drink.”

Suga sputters with laughter as he waits to check their coats. He’s fairly certain he’s in for a night of teasing from Suga, what with his obvious reaction to the people already crowded into the club. Maybe he was underprepared; it’d been a _long_ time since he’d gone out to a place like this, after all. Still, he didn’t think there had been this many half-dressed people last time he’d gone out, even if it was back in college.

Suga manages to find him at the bar just as their drinks arrive, and slides one arm over the slope of Daichi’s shoulders as he wriggles his way closer.

“You open doors for me _and_ you know my drink order? I think I’ll keep you.”

It’s too noisy in the club to hear each other at any kind of normal volume; Suga speaks right into his ear, his lips brushing over Daichi’s earlobe. It warms a shudder down Daichi’s spine, and his grip on Suga’s waist tightens. He’s a little self-conscious of their proximity, but it’s clear from everyone else’s complete disregard for them that no one cares. What they’re doing- Suga a laughing weight pressed against his side- is tame comparatively, but he doesn’t feel tame, placid. He’s ignited, the mere press of Suga’s fingers beginning to gently unravel him, turning all his rational thoughts into hazy fog.

Daichi takes a sip from his drink, and in the distracted moment, Suga detaches from his side. Suga tugs lightly on his wrist, mouthing _something_ , but over the pulse of the music, Daichi can’t hear him. He nearly spills his drink when Suga yanks him along with a gesture of his head, pulling them into the press of the crowd.

Navigating the throngs of dancing people is difficult. He’s bumped and bustled from side to side, strangers brushing a little too close for comfort with glazed eyes and bruised smiles. Suga, thankfully, doesn’t let go of his hand. Daichi holds onto it like a lifeline, his other hand occupied with holding his drink close enough that it doesn’t spill.

He hadn’t noticed it before, how the club opens up into another section. Suga draws him into this entirely new world, the music gradually getting louder until Daichi can feeling it pounding in his chest, the lights flashing brighter, and the people dancing harder. It’s much hotter, too. Daichi can feel a wet touch of sweat in his hair already, the glass in his hand growing slicker with condensation. Suga weaves his expert way through the crowd, near another bar, and, abruptly, leaves him.

Daichi watches, a little confused, mostly curious, as a tall, dark-haired man pulls Suga into a hug. They shout at each other with wide smiles on their faces, and then Suga makes a sweeping gesture behind himself, towards Daichi, fingertips beckoning him forward.

“Daichi,” he’s shouting, arm curled around Daichi’s neck to pull him closer, “this is one of my friends I was telling you about. He just got back into Japan a few hours ago.”  
The dark-haired man bends down slightly with an outstretched hand. Daichi clasps it firmly.

“You must be the one and only Sawamura Daichi I’ve heard so much about. Kuroo Tetsurou.”

“Good to meet you, Kuroo.”

“Likewise. Suga hasn’t shut up about you for weeks, so it’s nice to actually meet you. With the amount of times he used ‘perfect’ when describing you, I thought you might’ve been one of his characters.”

Daichi’s not sure how to respond to the teasing lilt in Kuroo’s words, but Suga does, jabbing Kuroo’s side until he grimaces.

“I see touring has done nothing to dampen your terrible sense of humor,” Suga says with a laugh. Daichi frowns, confused as to what kind of career has Kuroo touring.

“What can I say? It’s part of my charm.”

“Kuroo’s a musician,” Suga says upon noticing Daichi’s confusion, but Kuroo, ducked down to hear him, shakes his head.

“I’m really not,” he says, gesturing towards the stage. “My partner in crime up there’s more of a musician than I am. I’m just a DJ.”

 _“Just_ a DJ ,” Suga says.

“Yeah, well, it was either this or law school.”

There’s a wicked edge to Kuroo’s grin, a sense of smug self-satisfaction that amuses Daichi. He speaks briefly to Suga, then waves at the both of them, pushing his way back towards the stage.

Daichi manages to finish his drink off before Suga pulls him towards the bar, just in time for a fresh one to be pushed into his hand.

“Happy birthday, Dai-chan,” Oikawa says, as graceful and unruffled as ever, wiping beads of condensation from the glass off on his pants.

“Thanks. I shouldn’t be surprised you knew it was my birthday, but admittedly, I am.”

“Ah, Dai-chan, you’ll learn. I know all.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Oikawa smiles a bit, haughty as usual, but he looks a little softer around the edges. Maybe it’s the light in the club, but Daichi would almost venture a guess that he’s a little more genuinely happy than usual. Or drunk.

It’s a little easier to hear over at the bar; he actually manages to slip into conversation with Oikawa, Suga’s arms looped comfortably through his, but then-

_“Suga!”_

Daichi actually hears it over the noise, but as he turns, Suga’s swept up in a blur of wild limbs and a booming laugh. Suga’s lifted off the ground and spun around, and it’s so sudden that Daichi’s torn between disbelief and alarm. Once Suga’s dizzily set to his feet, Oikawa’s next.

“No,” he starts chanting, “no, no, no, NO-!” It’s the most flustered Daichi’s ever seen him, trying to pry himself out of this strong-iron grip while he’s lifted off the floor. He falls back into his barstool as soon as he’s free, hands immediately smoothing out his hair and tugging on his clothes. Daichi gapes, and then startles when the man turns and pins him with the brightest pair of eyes he’s ever seen.

“Are you Sawamura?” he asks lowly. Daichi nods dumbly, amazed he can hear him almost perfectly, and then finds himself crushed in a hug. It’s not so jolting as Suga and Oikawa’s hugs, but Daichi still feels bruised when the man drops his arms and slaps his own hands against Daichi’s shoulders

“Dude! It’s so good to meet you! Suga talks so much about you! Are you having fun? Isn’t it great here? What a way to ring in the New Year, right?”

“It’s Dai-chan’s birthday, too, Kou-chan,” Oikawa says. He sounds an awful lot like Tobio when he’s tattling on Shouyou.

 _“Dude!_ Happy birthday! You want a drink? Let me get you a drink.”

“No, that’s fine-”

Daichi’s protests go unheard, as the man whirls around, a fistful of bills already stuffed into an employee’s hands. Daichi has a shot before he knows it.

“I wish I could hang out with you guys,” the man goes on to say, “but our set’s starting in a few minutes, and Kuroo’ll get crabby if I leave him up there to start the show alone. I wanted to say hi, though, since he got to meet Suga’s man-”

He leans forward, like he’s sharing a secret, and waggles his eyebrows suggestively in Daichi’s direction.

“-and I hadn’t yet. Have fun!”

They all three watch him go, Oikawa pouting, Suga smiling, and Daichi, well. Dumbfounded, maybe. He’s not sure what to think, honestly.

“He’s Kuroo’s friend?” Daichi asks, fumbling with the two drinks in his hands.

“Yeah, they work together. That’s Bokuto Koutarou, the one Kuroo called ‘the _musician’_. They’ve been DJing together for a few years.”

Daichi nods, a little blankly. His mind’s still trying to process the whirlwind of a person he just met.

“Part of the Gruesome Twosome,” he hears Oikawa mutter. Suga jabs his stomach and glares at him, and Daichi quiets down his low laughter very quickly.

“Kuroo and Bokuto tease Tooru the most,” Suga goes on to explain, still eyeing Oikawa. “That’s why he’s so grumpy all of a sudden.”  
  
“I am _not_ grumpy.”

“You are. You’re pouting.”

“I. I. You.”

Daichi can’t keep his laughter quiet this time, and Oikawa turns his sputtering wrath upon him.

“Dai-chan,” he says, “haven’t you had a dance with darling Suga-chan yet?”

“Oh, no, I’m not much of a dancer-”  
  
“Oh, yes! Daichi, please? They’re starting the New Year’s countdown, it’ll be so _fun!”_

He’s helpless to turn Suga away. Oikawa knows this, and he suspects Suga knows this, too. With a sigh, he rolls his eyes in Oikawa’s direction, and stares down at the drinks in either hand. He downs both of them one after the other, making even Oikawa raise an eyebrow as he slams the glasses onto the bartop and trails after Suga.

 

* * *

 

It’s been a long time since he’s done this, found himself trapped in the pulse of a crowd. His mind jitters with the beat of the music, the flash of the lights, the long, slow press of Suga’s body against his. If he didn’t have so many drinks, he’d be self-conscious, but the alcohol softens the buzz of his mind. He’s focused on Suga, the color of his eyes changing every time the lights flash a different color, the smile hiding on his mouth, the wild waves of his hair, the iridescence of his skin. He’s glowing, a haze of reds and blues and purples lighting up around him.

On impulse, Daichi slides his hands around Suga’s waist, and pulls him a little closer. Suga’s hands tighten on his shirt, and the smile creeps up his face. He looks deviant in the glitter of club lights, mischievous and sweet and begging to be kissed, so Daichi does just that. He runs his hands through the silvery hair, swallows down the sigh from Suga’s throat. They’re still moving, swaying against each other. Daichi’s ignited by the touch of Suga’s mouth, his cold hands pressed against the back of Daichi’s neck and drawing him ever closer.

He feels like there’s electricity snapping underneath his skin, sparking and burning every instance where it lands a touch against him, turning him ever more dizzy in the middle of the crowd. He kisses Suga harder, and feels the shudder that runs down his spine.

There’s chanting around him, the New Year’s countdown, must be. But neither one of them pulls apart, too starved for each other, wound up and desperate in the press of a crowd of people who don’t care. The chanting evolves into cheering, a deafening mess of screams and shouts that signifies the end of Daichi’s birthday. Suga snaps away, leaving Daichi to chase after his mouth and savor a few stolen kisses. He stares at Daichi with bright eyes and red lips, hands coming up to circle around his wrists, hesitant to let him go.

“Suga,” he says, dragging his mouth in a damp line against Suga’s neck. Suga shudders against him. Daichi can feel the bite of his nails digging into the tender flesh of his wrists. He can hear Suga's harsh breaths against his ear, a warm puff of air crumbling every piece of his clarity and his resolve as his mind leaps to imagined scenarios. It's so easy to let his mind wander, when Suga is wide-eyed and pliant against him, dizzy with kisses.

He runs his tongue against the soft skin of Suga's neck, tasting sweat and glitter, electric music. He can feel the whimper that rumbles up Suga’s throat, his hands loosening from Daichi’s wrists and running through his hair instead.

Suga turns his heavy eyes towards Daichi and captures his mouth once again. There’s urgency in his touch, the same feeling spinning its way through Daichi’s body.

“Suga…” he groans out again when they take a chance to breathe.

“Daichi,” he whines. He’s not smiling, for once, his teeth instead biting into his tender lip. Daichi squeezes Suga’s hips, and the mouth falls open, some gentle exclamation no doubt falling out, but Daichi’s past gentleness, awkward tiptoeing around something they obviously both want.

Suga lurches against him suddenly, the two of them pressed tight. He’s laughing now, in Daichi’s arms, fluttering his fingers in the vague direction of someone talking to him. He turns around and Daichi notices the long wet spot that’s appeared on his jeans, skittering down across his calf.

“Drink spilled,” he shouts into Daichi’s ear, and their bubble instantly pops. The music is suddenly too loud, the crowds suddenly too crowded, the sour taste of liquor suddenly too strong on the tip of his tongue. Before he can say anything, Suga snares his wrist and starts to lead them out of the dancing crowds, like he read exactly what was on Daichi’s mind.

“Time to go home,” he says into Daichi’s ear, when they can breathe a bit easier without the crush of other people around them. Daichi smiles a bit and lets Suga guide him out to the front of the club. When Suga gets their coats, he, very suddenly, does not want this night to end. The stickiness of the club has worn him out, and there’s a fuzz of white noise already forming in his head from the volume of the music, but he _wants_ Suga, wants him so bad he can’t think beyond what Suga will look like in his bed.

Suga kisses him once in the doorway, a soft, gentle secret to share between the two of them before they step back into reality. Sobriety comes crashing down upon him when they step out into the frigid December- _January_ \- air. Daichi almost feels like the breath has been taken out of him, snatched away by the chill. He looks at Suga beside him, stomping his feet lightly and pulling gloves out of his pockets. His heart pounds a rhythm louder than anything he’s heard tonight.

"Suga," he says in a whisper, heady tongue twisting of its own accord, "come over."

"It's almost 1, you're gonna be crashing soon-"

"Stay the night."

Suga's mouth trembles to a close, surprise halting his words. It's been months of dating, but they haven't had a chance to talk about this, a chance to do anything besides a few minutes here and there of snatched kisses, heavy breaths back and forth. And maybe it's unfair to spring the request on him so suddenly, but Daichi's still dazed from the club, still shuddering beneath his skin, eager to taste more of Suga's.

"I- we, uhm. I-"

"Please." Daichi steps closer, fingers tangling with Suga's. The fabric of his gloves feels strange against Daichi's bare skin. "I need you, Suga."

Suga lets out a sigh, his eyes lowering to stare at Daichi's mouth.

"Are you drunk?"

"Don't say it like that."

"I- sorry. You're just- different."

"I'm happy," he says, drawing back on Suga's words from earlier in the night. Suga looks up at him, the pretty hazel of his eyes warm and soft. One gloved hand presses against Daichi's cheek.

"I'm happy, too," he says softly. He lets Daichi kiss him sweetly on the sidewalk, and lingers close when Daichi pulls away.

"Stay the night, please," Daichi repeats, a frantic edge to his voice and his thoughts, the closeness of Suga's sweet mouth intoxicating him in an entirely different way.

"Are you sure?" Suga asks, the same cautious care he's been using since the day they met.

"Yes," Daichi insists. His brain trips over a flash of imagined scenarios, a curl of a flame unfurling low in his stomach, and he could kiss Suga again, if he didn't have the sense to pull away and start marching down the sidewalk.

"The trains won't be running at this hour," he says, Daichi stepping after him, "so we better get a cab if you want to make it back home before freezing out here."

Daichi just nods along, too dazed to protest, and climbs into a cab after Suga. 

 

* * *

 

He's overtired and still shaking off the last tendrils of all those birthday drinks he had. Otherwise he might have the sense to be hesitant, nervous. It's not the first time Suga's been to his home, but it's the first time he's been here with the intention of staying.

"You should have some water," Suga murmurs to himself, shucking off his coat and his shoes, rubbing his eternally cold hands together. Daichi toes his shoes off more slowly, watches Suga walk into his kitchen, listens to the clatter of a glass, the sound of the faucet. He accepts the glass of water, still watching Suga as he flits about the living room, his fingers running nervous patterns over the couch, the bookshelf, straightening up the coffee table.

He drinks the water quickly, and sets the glass down, catching Suga's fluttering hands in his own.

"Daichi, are you sure?" he blurts out. He knows this pattern, how Suga rushes over things and stresses himself out until he's miles away, lost in his own head and his own traitorous thoughts. Daichi kisses him before his mind can go galloping off any further.

Suga sighs and melts against him, those tentative hands coming up to run through Daichi's hair again.

"I'm always sure when it comes to you," Daichi says breathlessly. Suga huffs out a laugh.

"You're so cheesy."

"I love you."

Suga’s mouth closes slowly. Daichi’s shocked even himself with the statement; he'd been thinking about it for _weeks_ , agonizing over the three precious words, waiting for the perfect time to say them. Making out in his living room was not one of those perfect times he had in mind.

"Daichi-"

"I- uh. Maybe-" He clears his throat. "Maybe this wasn't the best time to say that, but I do. I love you."

Suga stares at him, wide-eyed, then groans, smashing his face against Daichi's chest.

"You're such a- _romantic_ \- sap! God, Daichi."

"Sorry."

“A sap!”

“Sorry.”

"I love you, too," Suga mutters into his chest.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Definitely."

Daichi smiles to himself, arms coming tight around Suga's shoulders. He didn't expect to feel so damn warm after the admittance, but he does. He feels incandescent, a flush burning up his throat and spreading across his cheeks.

"I love you," he says into Suga's hair.

"You're such a dork."

"Yeah, but you love me. You _love_ me."

"Unfortunately. Can we have sex now?"

Daichi laughs out loud and kisses Suga. It’s easy to coax that earlier fierceness out, now that Suga’s a little embarrassed. It’s fun at first, teasing, aggressive, snapping at each other, but soon, Daichi feels that warmth bloom in his chest again, his stomach hitching with every taste of Suga’s mouth, every bite of teeth. He lets Suga push him backwards, until he meets a wall. When Suga pulls away, it’s with a kiss-bitten mouth and heavy eyes.

“Can we-” Suga starts. Daichi watches the long line of his throat as he swallows.

“Can we go to your bedroom?” he asks. Daichi nods his head slowly, more than happy to push himself off the wall and pull Suga down the hallway.

For all his earlier hesitance, Suga is eager when Daichi leads him into the bedroom. He settles himself across Daichi's thighs when they sprawl out on the bed, and kisses him languidly, teasing with a bite of teeth and the hot press of his tongue. Daichi's hands slink beneath his shirt, wandering slowly over Suga's hips, the bumps of his spine, his sensitive ribcage. When Suga pulls away from his mouth with a giggle, Daichi's hands reaching too sensitive a spot, he takes his time picking at the buttons of Daichi's shirt, undoing them one by one, eyes flicking between the buttons and Daichi's face. He pushes at the shirt until Daichi braces himself on his elbows, so he can push it off. Daichi shakes it off as best he can with Suga still on top of him, then settles back against the cool pillows.

Suga's eyes run over him, and Daichi feels himself flush at the attention, the appreciation. Suga shifts his hips the slightest bit, and Daichi bites his lip at the sudden rush of arousal from the contact.

“You are unfairly hot,” Suga states, palms pressed flat against Daichi’s chest. He wriggles his hips again when Daichi tugs on the hem of his shirt and pulls it off, throwing it over his shoulder.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Daichi croaks out, catching a foot on the bed and shifting himself so Suga’s weight doesn’t sit so directly over his growing erection. Suga smiles down at him and leans forward, pushing his hands slowly over Daichi’s chest.

Daichi revels in the brush of bare skin against his. He settles his hands on Suga’s hips again, as Suga kisses him. There’s a bit of hesitance in his kiss this time, or a touch of shyness perhaps, but Daichi tilts his mouth and deepens the kiss, hoping that he can pour reassurance into the touch.

It works, slowly, Suga gently opening up, relaxing his stiff body until there’s a nice long, warm line of skin meeting Daichi’s own skin. It’s a little unraveling- okay, _very_ unraveling- and very easy to lose himself in the sensations, even though it’s-

Oh.

“Hey,” Daichi whispers against Suga’s mouth, pulling back just enough to catch a breath. He’s suddenly shy under the dazed look Suga’s giving him, his mouth kissed red.

“I, uh-”

Suga tilts his head curiously, a few strands of hair falling across his forehead. Daichi reaches up and brushes them out of his eyes.

“I’ve never done this before. Been with a guy, I mean,” he admits softly.

It’s a little difficult to admit, awkward coming off his tongue. He’s not completely clueless to how sex between men works, but researching it on the internet versus preparing to actually have sex with his boyfriend are two very different things, and it’s a bit intimidating.

“We can just sleep tonight-”

“No!” Daichi blurts out, perhaps a little too eagerly for someone who has no idea what he’s doing. His hands go to Suga’s arms, fingers running lightly over the skin. “You may find this hard to believe but I have been thinking about this for a while.”

“No,” Suga says in mock disbelief, swiveling his hips with a smirk on his face, and drawing a groan out of Daichi.

“It’s fine,” he continues gently, pecking Daichi’s lips, “we’ll take it slow. We can stop whenever you want to.”

It helps, a little, Suga’s quiet confidence quelling the sudden burst of butterflies in Daichi’s stomach.

“I hope you have condoms?” Suga asks. Daichi nods, and leans onto his side to fumble around in his nightstand drawer. He pulls a handful out, and nabs the little bottle of lube rolling around in there, too, dropping everything on the bedspread next to him.

Suga’s still firmly planted over his hips, surveying the selection, a small smile beginning to form on his mouth.

“I never would’ve taken you for a flavored condom man, Daichi,” he says, a bright red condom between two fingers. Daichi just shrugs, smile playing at his mouth as Suga carefully slips out of his lap.

It’s quiet, then, between the two of them, Daichi beginning to grow a bit uncomfortable, completely clueless as to what Suga will do next. Suga watches him carefully, coyly, seemingly making up his mind about something, and shifting towards the end of the bed.

“I’m gonna blow you,” Suga says, a ferocious red blush blooming over his cheeks. Daichi’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead. The bluntness is unusual for Suga, sexy in a way, but the blush makes him smile and fight back his laughter.

“Okay,” Daichi says, lifting his hips so Suga can pull off his jeans. Suga’s fingers go to the waistband of his underwear, and he looks up, eyes wide in a silent question. Any amusement from earlier completely disappears, Daichi instead incomprehensibly turned on by the sight of Suga perched between his legs. He swallows the sudden lump in his throat, and nods the slightest bit, lifting his hips once again so Suga can pull off his underwear.

He shivers when the cool air hits his freshly bare skin, then shudders again with the way Suga’s eyeing him. Suga rests his fingertips on Daichi’s thigh, staring, until Daichi squirms under the scrutiny. Suga doesn’t move until Daichi clears his throat, and then he’s shaking his head.

“Sorry,” he says, “I was admiring the view.”

“Chrissake, Suga-”

“What? It’s a nice view!”

Daichi covers his face with his hands and groans, Suga snickering under his breath as he opens the condom. The groan turns into something more breathy, as Suga runs his fingers delicately over his cock, then grips it firmly. Daichi bites his lip at the touch, a sigh coming out in more of a soft whimper than he would care to admit.

Suga works over him for a few more seconds, then slides the condom over Daichi’s cock.

“Okay?” he asks, shifting in between Daichi’s legs. He lifts his head the slightest bit, to watch Suga settle between his legs. His bedroom is dimmed, but the light still catches in the warm glitter of Suga’s eyes.

Daichi nods weakly, and then lowers his head back down to the pillow beneath him. One of Suga’s hands comes to gently grip the base of his cock, the other creeping over his thigh. Suga gives one tentative lick to the tip, then slides his hot mouth over Daichi’s length. He groans, slinging one arm over his eyes, his free hand clenching restlessly in the bedspread.

Suga sucks with slow intent; even through the thin latex of the condom, Daichi can feel the twitch of his tongue, a little nudge just beneath the head of his cock, a warm swirl over the head, a slow drag down his length again. The motions send jolts of pleasure throughout his body, his muscles jumping when Suga’s mouth feels especially good. Suga’s fingers tap out a rhythm on his thigh, creeping up to rest on his hip bone instead. On impulse, Daichi loosens his hand from the bedspread and laces their fingers together, squeezing Suga’s hand tight when his lips part on a moan.

It seems to trigger some switch in Suga, as he begins to work his mouth harder over Daichi’s length. The pleasure starts to tighten in Daichi’s belly in waves, the intense heat of arousal washing over him in floods. He bends one leg, his heel digging into the bed, and Suga shifts the slightest bit to accommodate the movement, the hand teasing the parts of Daichi’s cock his mouth can’t reach suddenly brushing a little lower, making Daichi groan. Suga’s hand squeezes on his, tugging on it, until Daichi’s moving his arm and craning his neck to see. His mouth goes dry when Suga lets it rest in his hair, loosening his own fingers until Daichi takes the hint. His head drops down, back arching up off the bed as Suga takes him deeper. His fingers unconsciously tighten, in Suga’s hair, and he feels more than hears the soft moan in Suga’s throat. It makes him pant, both legs trembling as he braces himself against his bed, trying not to thrust into Suga’s pliant mouth. He’s getting close, _really_ close, those waves crashing down on him harder and faster, leaving him breathless and empty-headed, chasing after that sweet burn of pleasure.

He lets out a trembly moan when Suga sucks a little harder, his palm smoothing to the back of Suga’s head and pushing down gently. He’s starting to tighten up all over, a long line of sweat pressed sharp against his spine, damp against the backs of his knees, and his chest heaves like he can’t catch a breath.

His legs slip the next time he arches, but it doesn’t matter. The wave has engulfed him, dragging him down and forcing a cry out of his mouth as he comes. Suga coaxes him through it until he’s breathing high and whimpery, and then he pulls off abruptly. He crouches on his knees, one arm bracing himself on the bed so he’s half-hovering over Daichi, the other hand working over himself. Daichi still can’t breathe normally, but he couldn’t care less when Suga smashes their mouths together. The kiss is wet, sloppy and aggressive, tasting faintly of cherry. Daichi kisses back as hard as he can. Suga whines when Daichi catches his lip between his teeth, then jerks and gasps and shudders.

When Daichi finally summons the will to open his eyes again, he almost gets hard once more. Suga still hovers over him, his hair twisted in wild waves, sweat damp at his temples, red-mouthed and pink-cheeked, panting softly. It makes Daichi’s face flush hotter than it already is, but his body doesn’t have the energy to do anything about it for at least another twenty minutes.

He stretches and fumbles until he grabs a wad of tissues, offering them to Suga. He begins the arduous task of shifting up the bed, dragging the condom off his dick and tying it off, then cleaning up a bit. He’s starting to cool down now, the sweat drying on his skin. Suga tosses the tissues into the trashcan, and Daichi watches the boneless way his body slumps. He can see the faint outline of Suga’s ribcage along his back as he breathes in and out, and Daichi reaches one finger out, to trace across the bones. It prompts Suga to look over his shoulder, with a delicate sort of debauched poise that Daichi thinks only he can pull off.

“I love you,” he says on impulse, too tired and blissed out to care about how absolutely corny it is. Suga smiles gently and carefully unfolds himself, stretching out beside Daichi and pressing the softest of kisses to his mouth.

“I love you, too,” he murmurs, tucking his head snugly beneath Daichi’s chin.

He can feel his eyes growing heavy, the lack of sleep and the interruption to his usual schedule beginning to take its toll on him. Suga’s a warm weight beside him, he’s happy, sated, content, and he could drift off completely satisfied.

If Suga didn’t start shivering beside him.

He laughs, a low, tired rumble, and shifts without saying a word. He sits up, eyes still closed, and pulls down the bedspread. Suga scrambles beneath the covers, immediately huddling up to him when Daichi snaps off the light and joins him.

“Did you have a good birthday?” Suga asks, hand resting gently on the back of Daichi’s neck.

“Mhmm.”

“Even though it’s way past your bedtime?”

“Shh.”

Suga laughs; it’s muffled against Daichi’s mouth, as he presses one more kiss to Daichi’s already sleep-slack mouth. Sleep creeps up on him quietly, his eyes growing heavy as he watches Daichi’s face, his heart full of easy love.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](downmoonwrites.tumblr.com)   
>  [twitter](https://twitter.com/dyefighter)


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